Song of a Dream

Wu Qian

By pools of congealed green

Red flowers form a screen.

East of the painted bridge alone stands she,

Trying to bind spring breeze with sprigs of willow tree.

Magpies fly through gossamers light,

The bees alight on falling flowers in vain.

A swing hangs in the yard before the window bright.

How much sorrow and leisure she feels in the rain!